Читать книгу Sorry - Shaun Whiteside - Страница 17

THE CLICK OF THE NOZZLE wakes me. I’m standing next to the car, leaning over, arms on the roof. I must have gone to sleep. My calves are trembling, it’s a wonder that I haven’t fallen over.

I walk into the gas station shop and get coffee from a machine. It’s eleven in the morning, it’s the second day, and I feel like a pinball that’s being bounced noisily from one cushion to another, never coming to rest. An hour ago I drove past Munich and set my course for Nuremberg. I’m thinking from one city to the next. I don’t know where I’ll go after Nuremberg. Only Berlin is out of the question. As soon as I see the next exit, I’ll switch on the indicator and look for a destination. Life can be reduced to the most elementary things. Filling up, drinking, sleeping, eating, peeing, and driving. Driving, time and again.

“Will there be anything else?”

The cashier has an eyelash on her cheek. I tell her. She laughs and wipes the eyelash away. She could’ve made a wish, but she doesn’t look like someone who believes in wishes. She hands me my change. I look outside. A man wearing blue dungarees and holding a bucket stops by my car. He sets the bucket down and starts cleaning my windshield.

“Wait, your coffee!”

I’m already on my way outside and turn round. The cashier holds up my paper cup. I take the coffee and thank her. When I leave the gas station shop the man has finished the windshield and is on his way to the back window.

“No!” I shout.

“It’s free,” the man says, setting the bucket down on the ground.

“Even so …”

I put the coffee on the car roof, rummage for change in my trouser pocket, and press two euros into his hand.

“No offense,” I say and wait until he goes. Then I get into the car and drive off. Fifty yards away from the gas station I stop in the car park. My hands are trembling. I look in the rearview mirror. The window behind me is brown, I left the coffee on the car roof. I burst out laughing. I just sit in the car for a few minutes and try to calm myself down. My hands are trembling, and although I’ve just been to the bathroom I feel pressure on my bladder.

“It’ll all be fine,” I repeat, resting my hand on the tailgate and enjoying the silence beneath it.